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User blog:Incisrongirl/The Song of Redwall Part Three
) PART THREE OF THIS CRAPPY FANFIC, WRITTEN ON A MOBILE DEVICE BECAUSE I HAVE NO COMPUTER. PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART ONE AND PART TWO OF THE SONG OF REDWALL. By the time I was old enough to remember anything about life at the "settlement" , my brother was about thirteen or fourteen. Being one of the oldest creatures left in the place, he was the one the youngsters (including me) looked to when they wanted to eat. They didn't look to him for food, mind you - with the elders dead, dying or gone, we bumbled about, pulled out whatever scraps of food we could find and never went outside of the hollow. (Why didn't we go out and forage, as good sense should have told us to? We'd spent every day of our lives shut up inside of that hollow. God forbid we should ever muster up anything like good sense, get up ofc our tails, and look for survival. ) Everyone fended for himself, and maybe for his siblings, regarding producing food. But Samuel was, most often, the one who collected the ingredients and boiled them into some tolerable concoction. He did it to shut up the younger beasts' whining - the same thing that forced him to sit at the bedsides of feverish, crying youngsters for hours on end - even though he knew that the mechanical caresses and bowls of water on demand wouldnt cure them, and that he would be the one to have to get rid of their bodies. I can't say I remember all this on my own. At three seasons old, I didn't know anything about where my food came from, or didn't come from; of course, I had no idea what happened to the youngsters that Samuel sat with for hours, giving them attention that I was sure I deserved. They just disappeared days or weeks later. And the first time I asked Samuel about what happened to them, he told me: "Shut up." If he was aiming to act as a substitute parent, no one could say he didn't know how to discipline. I shut up and I never asked again - not over the course of ten seasons. But there wasn't much about life at the hollow that I was old enough to remember. I was almost four seasons old, when Samuel must have started seriously thinking about just how all of those elders had vanished from the "settlement ". Well, they certainly didn't all DIE. Most of them did, but there were a good portion of them who didn't. What they had done was show some good sense. Samuel decided one night to show some sense, too. I remember being shaken out of my dreams of candied chestnuts and ice cream mountains. Samuel had growled, " Get up. We're out of this God d-d wreck." Yes, I remember those words clearly, simply because I spent a long time trying to figure out if that was really what he'd said. As far as I was concerned, the place wasn't a "God d-d wreck" - it was just home, and no one had ever told me I was supposed to think it was anything else. Even seasons after that night my brother dragged me out of the hollow by my shoulder, through the dark of the Woods, I still told myself he'd said someone different than what I had heard. Maybe he said, "Get up; God, you look a wreck, " ? Not a nice kind of thing to say, but not something he wouldn't say. Or something that sounded like, "We're out of this God d-d wreck," - but wasn't that. Maybe he'd been mumbling in a different language? Category:Blog posts